Page 40 of Midlife Witch Unexpected

“Why don’t we order a cup of coffee? I was just about to ring my daughter, if you don’t mind, I’ll introduce you to her,” I said to Bianca as I moved with her to a table, leaving Hilda and Branson to their own devices. I just wanted one hour of life where I wasn’t talking about something completely irrational and insane. I wanted one moment where I could just talk about exams or fashion or nail polish; maybe a new cooking recipe that included, you know, actually cooking the food.

I sat down in the corner with Bianca and pulled out my cell phone.

“I’d love to meet your daughter,” Bianca said, glancing oddly at Branson as he sat down alone at a table in the opposite corner of the bakery. “Why doesn’t he join us?”

“Oh, no. This is just fine,” I said, turning my back to him as Hilda disappeared behind the counter to speak to Trina. I didn’t give a damn. I was going to be a Normie for at least one hour of my day.

Besides, how the hell was I going to explain Branson to my twenty-one-year-old daughter?

Chapter 24

“What the hell is that?” I asked, staring at the large black van parked in front of my beautiful old Victorian house. “For a small town in the middle of nowhere, I sure get a lot of visitors.” I glanced over at Branson. I hadn’t wanted him to come home with me, but he had insisted. I hadn’t argued with him, but I definitely got the feeling he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“You’re on yellow alert,” he said. “Yellow is what happens when something out of the ordinary occurs. A vampire showing up threatening the High Priestess is entirely out of the ordinary. It would have put you on a yellow alert automatically. Means I have to stay close to you and on guard twenty-four seven.”

“When do I actually get a say in any of this?” I asked. I hadn’t been liking the way this was playing out. Whatever happened to living life on my terms? Having things the way I wanted them? Ever since I got up here, it seemed like I just had to be reactive to everything. And the present moment was no different. I looked over at the van.

“What can I expect?” I asked Branson.

“It’s the Watchers,” he said. “They live on the coastline usually, so this is a perfect place for them to have a station.”

“Is their job to watch me or watch the cemetery?” I asked.

“They watch you. And they report on you to the DGC.”

“Who sits back and does nothing?” I asked.

Branson shook his head. “You don’t want the DGC involved. Once they get involved, this place will be locked up from all humanity. It’ll be turned into a prison and you’ll be made the prison master. It’ll be a place rarely talked about and often forgotten. But you’ll be stuck here.”

“A prison?” I asked.

Branson nodded. “Even if you like it here now, if DGC gets a hold of it, it will change dramatically.”

The door to the van opened and a tall man with black hair and all-black clothes stepped out. He wore a choker collar around his neck and had both ears pierced. He looked like a Gothic rendition of someone from the punk scene. I guess it took all types, but I wasn't expecting this type out here in southern Oregon. I was thinking here would be more fishermen and ranchers, countryfolk. Not country goth. But I suppose it wasn't surprising.

“Is it another witch?” I asked Branson as I put my hand on the door handle, ready to get out of the jeep. I wasn’t going to have them meet me at my window. I would meet them on the ground in front of my home. My hands tingled.

“No. It’s a beastial,” Branson said.

“What sort of beast does it turn into?” I couldn’t help the irritation in my voice, but this guy was coming towards the jeep, and I needed to know what I was up against. I glanced quickly at my hands to make sure they were fired up. I shook them a bit. But they just screamed in caution to me.

I opened the door and stepped out of the jeep before I turned back at Branson. “Well?” I asked.

"It's a harpy," he said with a growl. And from the way, the word came out of his mouth it sounded like he wouldn't mind tasting harpy. A shiver went down my spine. Branson wasn't sweet. He wasn't charming. He wasn't anything like a normal man. He was steel and hungry and angry and he was staring at the harpy like it was target practice. He stepped out of the jeep.

“Stand down, man,” I said to him. “You look like you’re going to rip his head off.”

“I might,” grumbled Branson, but he fell into line, flanking me as we faced off against the harpy. I could see more were in the van, but only two came to stand in front of us.

“Can I help you?” I asked.

“You are The Hayes?” The male harpy said to me.

“I am,” I said, not even really knowing everything that meant, but knowing it was the truth.

“I am Jaika," the harpy said. His lip curled in a smile as he looked at Branson. Clearly, these two were friends. Behind Jaika came a woman dressed similarly in a black sweater and jeans. Her hair was also black, and she wore the same necklace. I was pretty sure it was a talisman that helped keep them in their human forms.

“What transpired?” The woman asked. “I am Ida.” She gave me a brief nod.

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